If I’m found
lacking, at the end of the day
For the
things I do, or the words that I say
It may be my
fault, for my unpolished skill
Or maybe,
perhaps, for the time that I kill
But let it
never be from lacking of heart
Nor some
misgiving for not doing my part
Good intentions. I have them, but even they fall short of expectation. We must live beyond.
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